Which surprised me, since I've had the same incision three times before, and I've never had to do this before, but... then I thought about it, and the reality is that I've never had sections of my small intestine mashed up against my skin before, either. There's a much higher risk that my actual intestine will be sliced when they're opening me up tomorrow, so I guess it makes sense that they want to make sure my guts are clean on the insides.
You know, so the shit doesn't hit the proverbial fan.
(Sorry for the swear, Judy. But it was too good not to say. ... And Dad'll be proud of the pun, if not the language.)
So, I'm sitting here at home, having drunk half a bottle of this stuff:
And I'm waiting.
(And yeah, it feels pretty ominous around here. Thanks for asking.)
While I wait, I'm writing thank you cards and playing THIS stupid game on my phone:
I know. I'm pretty much CRAP at this game, but I'm addicted to it, anyway. (I feel a little bit like I'm flashing back to the fall of 1991, as I fall asleep thinking about these stupid numbers falling. It's a problem. ... Tetris was my NEMESIS my senior year in high school.)
The good news is that all my heels (all four paper boxes full of them) are packed up and hidden away from me. My oven is clean (thanks, Jo!), my carpets are vacuumed (again, thanks, Jo!), my dishwasher is empty and my bathroom is clean. My pantry is full. I have all my comfy clothes at the front of my closet. My hospital bag is packed.
And I'm ready.
It's kind of weird, how NOT nervous I am.
I mean... it's not like I'm looking forward to this. It's a known hell. ... But I know it. Which means that I know I can do it. And, now that I'm at this point in the game, I can look back on impressions and thoughts I've had over the past few months and I know that it was the Lord preparing me for this, because while I didn't know this is what I'd be doing this summer... He sure did.
I can do this.
I don't want to.
But I also don't want to grow another malignant watermelon in my belly... so I'll let them take it out while it's a lime.
I can do hard things.
And I'm so grateful that I know that about myself.